Muse
by BeccabooO1O
Summary: She noticed that they had crossed into the arts department. Was he a closet clarinet player? Or a surprise soprano? That would be amazing. (aka the one where Jackson finds a sketch of him and is a little shit about it, bc that's totally what he would do)


_'I drew you for my art project and it ended up in the art gallery at school and "I'm sorry I didn't ask your permission but you're just so hot, I'm sorry."'_

* * *

She was at her locker, picking and choosing which subjects she would actually take home with her to work on - which sadly ended up being everything. She had so much school work to catch up on now that she had submitted her pieces for the gallery that the art department of the high school put on every year. She only handed in a few pieces - a few mundane sketches from people watching at the park or during class when it was the only thing that would keep her from passing out on her desk - but she was absolutely proud of said pieces, convincing herself that this year could be the year where she got recognition for her work.

That'd show her parents.

She smiled at the nice thought as she shut her locker, prepared to leave for home to start chipping away at the mountain of homework she had been putting off. But as she turned around, she came face to face with none other than Jackson Whittemore. And she yelped.

 _Real mature there_. She thought.

"Hey." He flashed her a charming smile.

"Uhh, hi." She replied, unable to keep the suspicion out of her voice. What the hell would Jackson want with her?

"Let me carry your books for you." He offered politely before taking her organized pile. Was she on an episode of _Punk'd_?

Jackson started to saunter down the hallway and she had no other choice but to catch up to him, unable to formulate why this was happening. She fought to keep up with the teenager, her bag over her shoulder and her heels clicking across the linoleum flooring of the hallway. He looked back at her as he led her around a corner and then a thought occurred to her: shouldn't _she_ be leading _him_ is they're heading to her car - her car in the parking lot that was in the other direction?

"Hey Jackson," She started, staring at the back of his head. "The parking lot's in the other direction."

"I know." He said over his shoulder. "I forgot to grab something." So then why was she going with him?

She noticed that they had crossed into the arts department. Was he a closet clarinet player? Or a surprise soprano? _That_ would be amazing.

But she followed him past the various music related rooms. That only left the art division of the department.

He stopped in front of a grouping a pieces that had been put up for the gallery. She took one look and knew.

 _Oh, fuck._

She realized a little too late that she had said that out loud.

"What?" Jackson glanced at her before returning his attention to the drawings - her sketches.

"You know," Jackson drawled. "When Danny told me that there was a picture of me here, I was pretty flattered. I mean," His teeth glinted in an arrogant smile. "I know I'm irresistible, but usually people tell me when they're committing me to paper."

She wanted to crawl into a corner and hide. Or something. "How would you know it's you? It's just a rough sketch." She challenged, keeping to what she thought when she had left class that day, the piece of paper close to her chest. She didn't really even consider handing it in until the department head told her that she'd really be doing an injustice to the world if she hadn't.

And look where it got her.

Giving a weak ass defense as to why there was a sketch that she had done of Jackson one day during history class tacked up to a board behind a pane of glass.

"I can tell that that's my scarf." He pointed to the glass. "No one has that scarf - much less pull it off like I can."

 _That's true_. "You really are full of yourself, aren't you?"

"You say that like it's a bad thing."

"It kind of is." She rebutted coolly as she flattened out her skirt against she legs.

"You must not find it a bad thing since you decided to get it on paper." He rose and eyebrow at her and she rolled her eyes, leaning against the glass pane.

"If it's such a big deal, then I'll make sure to steer clear of you when I try to stay awake the many classes that we have together." It was true, the two had almost every class together, although he wasn't in her art class - thank god.

"Well, that's not exactly what I was getting to."

"But I get the gist of it." She dismissed. "I'm sorry. Can we go now?" The apology might have been half-hearted, but she really didn't want to talk about this anymore. She started to walk away, not really waiting to see if he would follow - she had a feeling that he would.

They passed her locker when she spoke again. "That detail is something. Was that really done in less than an hour?"

She shrugged, but he blush gave her away as she walked step by step with him out of the school and to the parking lot.

"It's kind of a turn on." He commented when the two reached her car.

"I am so not doing this with you." She slid into the driver's seat and took her books from him, setting the stack and her bag on the passenger seat.

Jackson leaned into the open window, smirking down at her. "You say that now, but just wait - next thing you know you'll be drawing me like one of your french girls."

"In your dreams." And with that she revved up her car and sped out of the parking lot.

She realized a couple months later that she would have to eat her words. Because there she was, in his room, lazily drawing his profile as he laid on her bed, shirtless and reading one of the books for their English class.

* * *

 _Remember to Smile :)  
~Becca_


End file.
